Karyn's Light

A true story about friendship and lost opportunities.

It would have been so easy. She was petite and pretty, with big, doe eyes and silky brown hair she wore in a stylish bob to her shoulders. She was also smart and interesting, she had a killer wardrobe, and you couldn’t help but look at her as she walked past. It wasn’t hard to imagine why she glittered among the elite bevy of “popular” kids in my class.

But she was so nice. Unlike some who reserved their attentions for a select few, Karyn was friendly with everyone – even me, not exactly an outcast but miles away from the popular scene. She talked to me a lot, in fact, to giggle about our teachers, or ask me about books or movies I’d seen. She even told me where she bought the adorable t-shirt dress I’d coveted from the moment I saw it. When I wrote a play for my English class, Karyn was one of the first people who volunteered to be in it, playing the role of (what else?) a Greek goddess.

I couldn’t envision my overweight, awkward self walking arm-in-arm with her and her fashionista friends.

Still, I figured our interaction would never extend past the walls of our school. I certainly couldn’t envision my overweight, mildly awkward self walking arm-in-arm with her and her fashionista friends through the Short Hills mall. What did we have in common, really, aside from the fact that we went to the same school? I enjoyed Karyn’s company when we were together, but I was hesitant to call us “friends”; probably, she was just being nice.

That year was the height of the social season for our class, with a stream of bar and bat mitzvahs almost every weekend. It wasn’t uncommon for us to stay up late at a party Saturday night, sleep over at someone’s house and then head out to another bash on Sunday afternoon. One day at school, Karyn leaned over to me in the middle of social studies.

“Are you going to the parties this weekend?”

“I think so,” I replied.

“And the one on Sunday, it’s at your synagogue, right?”

“Yeah.”

I remembered then that Karyn lived about 40 minutes away from where Sunday’s bar mitzvah would be. It would be a long shlep for her parents to drive after a late pickup the night before.

“You should sleep over,” I said, without thinking.

As soon as the words left my mouth, I wanted to pull them back. Was I crazy? Did I seriously thinkKaryn Glick would sleep at my house? It was humiliation waiting to happen. I could just picture her giggling about our exchange with her friends in the lunchroom: “And then – can you believe it?” she would say. “She asked me if I wanted to sleep over!” And they would all double over in fits of laughter, flashing perfect white teeth.

But Karyn said, “Okay.”

I was stunned.

And that was how I found myself at my kitchen table at 2 a.m. on a Saturday night, dunking graham crackers into Swiss Miss with one of the most popular girls in school. But the strangest part about the whole thing was that it didn’t feel strange at all. Within just a few minutes, Karyn and I were laughing so hard we could barely keep the hot chocolate in our mouths. I quickly forgot that she was Karyn Glick and that I was me. We were just two girls up giggling too late on a Saturday night. Maybe we really were friends.

After that, Karyn and I chatted in class and waved to each other in the hallways, but we never had another sleepover.

Leukemia

In the spring, Karyn started missing school. A day here, a day there, and then she stopped coming altogether. The administration assembled our class to tell us that Karyn had been diagnosed with leukemia. She would be going through chemotherapy and radiation, and most likely a bone marrow transplant, because the disease had already progressed to the “blast” crisis stage. They didn’t tell us that chances of her recovery were slim – no one had survived her type of cancer before – but instead encouraged us to call her, to send her letters and even to visit, if her parents said it was a good day to come.

I wish I had called her. I wish I had gone to visit her. But I never did.

Looking back now, I wish I had called her. I wish I had written her a letter. I wish I had gone to visit her. But I never did. Partly, it was my fear of illness that kept me away – not that I would get sick, but that I would say the wrong thing and hurt her feelings. The other part was the fear that it would be intrusive of me to reach out; sure, we’d had a sleepover once and some friendly conversations in school, but were we really friends? I had thought so. But what if I was wrong?

Our Sages teach that one of the deeds for which we receive rewards in both this world and the world to come is bikur cholim, visiting the sick, because by doing so we remove one-sixtieth of the person’s illness. Though visiting a sick person does not guarantee a cure for their illness, the visit itself is a balm for the one in pain. Even just for the duration of the visit, they are relieved to some degree from knowing that someone cares enough to come and see them. It didn’t matter if she was popular and I wasn’t, or if we were officially “friends” or not, by neglecting to reach out to Karyn, I missed a much larger opportunity than I realized.

Less than a year after she was diagnosed, Karyn died. Her death affected me deeply, and I mourned her for a long time. Perhaps it was because she was young, like me. Perhaps it was because she had been so lively and real, and now she was gone. But I think it was because I had lost someone who I knew, deep down, had been a friend to me, yet I’d let fear stand in the way of being a friend back.

At the memorial ceremony, Karyn’s mother, Susan, told an incredible story about her daughter. The Make-a-Wish foundation had approached Karyn to offer her a special wish, reserved only for terminally ill children. Karyn smiled in response and told the woman, “Give my wish to someone who really needs it. I don’t have it so bad.” I understood then that Karyn had a wisdom that was well beyond her 14 years. She saw past the superficial to what was real. She looked at people, not for what they were, but for who they were. This was why although she was a “popular girl,” she never acted like one.

Karyn’s Light

Four years later, I sat at an awards ceremony for my high school’s graduating class. I didn’t expect to win anything; my grades were laughably low. But one thing at which I had excelled was theater. I had starred in a number of productions at my high school and in regional shows, and loved being onstage. Yet my school didn’t have an award for that. The only art award they had was the “Karyn Glick Award,” which her parents had founded in her memory for students who were talented painters or artists.

Karyn’s mother, Susan, stood up to present the award. “This year would have been the year my daughter graduated with this class,” she told the audience, “so I am especially honored to give this award. Usually, we give it to students who have shown talent in the fine arts, but this year we’ve decided to make an exception. Instead, we will be giving the award to someone for achievement in the dramaticarts. Congratulations, Rea...”

The applause was like an electric shock bolting through my system. I shook with nerves as I headed up to the stage, my hands trembling as Susan reached out to hug me. “Mazel Tov,” Susan said into my ear. “Karyn always liked you.” Then she gave me a beautiful, handcrafted menorah plated with multi-colored glass, a one-of-a-kind piece from an artist in Israel.

The essence of the Hanukkah is to look past the external, to bring light into the darkness.

I was deeply touched, and at the same time, I felt the regret I’d been carrying for four years lift off my heart. Although I would have done it differently if I could, I got the sense, through this gift and her mother’s words, that I could forgive myself for not reaching out to Karyn when I had the chance.

I’ve lit candles on “Karyn’s” menorah every Hanukkah, and put it in a place of honor on my windowsill. The essence of the Hanukkah is to look past the external to the internal, to draw the spiritual out of the physical, and to bring light into the darkness. For me, there is no more fitting way to honor Karyn, who looked beyond the surface, than by lighting candles on my menorah, to make a connection, and to remember her.

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About the Author

Rea Bochner is a writer and musician who lives in NJ. She holds a BA in Film at Emerson College and a Master's in Special Education from Montclair State University. Rea has worn many hats in her life, including: a tour guide at the Disney MGM Studios, a story developer at Universal Studios and later, and as a teacher of students with special needs. These days, Rea is wearing her "Mom" hat, happily raising her kids while writing for various publications. She is the founder of the Jewish lifestyle blog, www.reezie.com

Visitor Comments: 17

What a moving story. How beautiful that this person touched your life.

(13)
Leah,
December 20, 2012 5:25 PM

I always love finding articles of yours on Aish.com. You have such a talent from Hashem to write words that reach people in the deepest places of their hearts. This was so beautiful and meaningful...

(12)
Anonymous,
December 20, 2012 8:26 AM

This is such a moving article!
In many ways, I can identify with the author. I was never "popular" and am shy and introverted.
But I've learned over the years not to underestimate the impact I can have on other people, even ones I don't know that well. Often it's tempting to think (and in the past I often did, and to some extent still do) "what difference will it make to so and so if I visit or call" and not make the effort. But the truth is, visiting a sick person or someone sitting shiva or just making a call to someone I could call a friend if I let myself, makes a bigger difference to them than I thought it would.
We are told to think "for me the world was created" - we must not underestimate the impact we can have on others and use that as an excuse to do nothing.

(11)
Nili Couzens,
December 20, 2012 1:26 AM

beautiful!

rea, this is absolutely beautiful! Thanks for such an inspiring story.

(10)
Leya Yetta,
December 19, 2012 5:30 PM

self confidence

Thank you for sharing, what appears to continue to be a painful memory of past behaviors. This reminds us that that the "popular" people are generally the ones who are self confident. If you had been more accepting of yourself, and if all of us accept at least some element of ourselves, we would be more comfortable sharing ourselves with others. And the return of that sharing is generally such a great reward.

(9)
Sheila Oliver Hyam,
December 19, 2012 4:18 AM

Better late than never.

What a beautiful true story. We all, young and not so young have so much to learn from it, before it is too late. Toda.

(8)
Esther,
December 19, 2012 3:31 AM

This is so beautiful.

This is such a beautiful tribute to a wonderful person. Mazal tov to you for writing such a profound, touching and moving piece. I'll remember this for a long, long time.

(7)
kosor,
December 18, 2012 4:12 PM

Teary eyes, so touching and educating

(6)
cherub,
December 18, 2012 5:09 AM

so beautiful!! I loved reading this. I also learned a lot :) very beautiful!!

(5)
Anonymous,
December 17, 2012 8:04 PM

Teshuva and Tikun

Rea, I am deeply moved by your article. It not only serves to inform us about the exceptional person Karyn Glick was, it teaches us how true repentance can serve as a fixing. Thank you.

(4)
Sharon,
December 17, 2012 7:31 AM

An honest and moving story

thanks

(3)
Lynn,
December 16, 2012 9:26 PM

Heart warming

Rea. What a beautiful part of your life. A true testament to the wonderful person that you are today to realize even a girl whom people thought was a popular person wanted to reconized just a person .
You reached out to her to show we are all the same needing love and support.Your kindness is still what makes you such a special and valued friend today.

(2)
Sandrine,
December 16, 2012 8:47 PM

Never let down a Friend

I'll never let down à Friend who needs some Humans words, no matter the.ilness. Don't be ashamed.

(1)
Laya,
December 16, 2012 7:02 PM

so moving, thank you

Thank you so much for sharing this story. How many times do we hold ourselves back because of that fear of how we are really perceived? Your courage to heal is a bright light for us all and a beautiful tribute to your precious friend, Karyn Glick. Many blessings.! <3

Aliza Shanet,
December 16, 2012 8:31 PM

To think of what we would regret

We all need to think of what we might regret in the future and do it now, before it's too late. Sometimes when i'm mad at someone (not really the case in this story but the moral is the same), i think about something i wouldn't want to happen, and how my heart would pinch in regret, and i feel love for the person and forgive them.
or if there's something i want to do and keep procrastinating...what if there will be no more opportunity?

I live in rural Montana where the Cholov Yisrael milk is difficult to obtain and very expensive. So I drink regular milk. What is your view on this?

The Aish Rabbi Replies:

Jewish law requires that there be rabbinic supervision during the milking process to ensure that the milk comes from a kosher animal. In the United States, many people rely on the Department of Agriculture's regulations and controls as sufficiently stringent to fulfill the rabbinic requirement for supervision.

Most of the major Kashrut organizations in the United States rely on this as well. You will therefore find many kosher products in America certified with a 'D' next to the kosher symbol. Such products – unless otherwise specified on the label – are not Cholov Yisrael and are assumed kosher based on the DOA's guarantee.

There are many, however, do not rely on this, and will eat only dairy products that are designated as Cholov Yisrael (literally, "Jewish milk"). This is particularly true in large Jewish communities, where Cholov Yisrael is widely available.

Rabbi Moshe Feinstein wrote that under limited conditions, such as an institution which consumes a lot of milk and Cholov Yisrael is generally unavailable or especially expensive, American milk is acceptable, as the government supervision is adequate to prevent non-kosher ingredients from being added.

It should be added that the above only applies to milk itself, which is marketed as pure cow's milk. All other dairy products, such as cheeses and butter, may contain non-kosher ingredients and always require kosher certification. In addition, Rabbi Feinstein's ruling applies only in the United States, where government regulations are considered reliable. In other parts of the world, including Europe, Cholov Yisrael is a requirement.

There are additional esoteric reasons for being stringent regarding Cholov Yisrael, and because of this it is generally advisable to consume only Cholov Yisroel dairy foods.

In 1889, 800 Jews arrived in Buenos Aires, marking the birth of the modern Jewish community in Argentina. These immigrants were fleeing poverty and pogroms in Russia, and moved to Argentina because of its open door policy of immigration. By 1920, more than 150,000 Jews were living in Argentina. Juan Peron's rise to power in 1946 was an ominous sign, as he was a Nazi sympathizer with fascist leanings. Peron halted Jewish immigration to Argentina, introduced mandatory Catholic religious instruction in public schools, and allowed Argentina to become a haven for fleeing Nazis. (In 1960, Israeli agents abducted Adolf Eichmann from a Buenos Aires suburb.) Today, Argentina has the largest Jewish community in Latin America with 250,000, though terror attacks have prompted many young people to emigrate. In 1992, the Israeli Embassy in Buenos Aires was bombed, killing 32 people. In 1994, the Jewish community headquarters in Buenos Aires was bombed, killing 85 people. The perpetrators have never been apprehended.

Be aware of what situations and behaviors give you pleasure. When you feel excessively sad and cannot change your attitude, make a conscious effort to take some action that might alleviate your sadness.

If you anticipate feeling sad, prepare a list of things that might make you feel better. It could be talking to a specific enthusiastic individual, running, taking a walk in a quiet area, looking at pictures of family, listening to music, or reading inspiring words.

While our attitude is a major factor in sadness, lack of positive external situations and events play an important role in how we feel.

[If a criminal has been executed by hanging] his body may not remain suspended overnight ... because it is an insult to God (Deuteronomy 21:23).

Rashi explains that since man was created in the image of God, anything that disparages man is disparaging God as well.

Chilul Hashem, bringing disgrace to the Divine Name, is one of the greatest sins in the Torah. The opposite of chilul Hashem is kiddush Hashem, sanctifying the Divine Name. While this topic has several dimensions to it, there is a living kiddush Hashem which occurs when a Jew behaves in a manner that merits the respect and admiration of other people, who thereby respect the Torah of Israel.

What is chilul Hashem? One Talmudic author stated, "It is when I buy meat from the butcher and delay paying him" (Yoma 86a). To cause someone to say that a Torah scholar is anything less than scrupulous in meeting his obligations is to cause people to lose respect for the Torah.

Suppose someone offers us a business deal of questionable legality. Is the personal gain worth the possible dishonor that we bring not only upon ourselves, but on our nation? If our personal reputation is ours to handle in whatever way we please, shouldn't we handle the reputation of our nation and the God we represent with maximum care?

Jews have given so much, even their lives, for kiddush Hashem. Can we not forego a few dollars to avoid chilul Hashem?

Today I shall...

be scrupulous in all my transactions and relationships to avoid the possibility of bringing dishonor to my God and people.

With stories and insights,
Rabbi Twerski's new book Twerski on Machzor makes Rosh Hashanah prayers more meaningful. Click here to order...